Pray
by Emerald Embers
Summary: James starts to wonder if it's him, the town, or everything in the world that's going insane. Rated for dark themes.


Pray  
  


by Emerald Embers

Rated PG for dark themes.

Konami own Silent Hill and Pyramid Head, damn their lucky bums, and a very talented bunch thy are too, so I'm glad to say that this is only a tribute to their work if anything, and I'm not making any money off it.

  


[James]

  


Secrets, secrets, secrets.

That's all this town is about, really, and once you look carefully, you realise it knows things you haven't told _anyone_. That's when you realise it's seen your mind. It's all in your mind. It knows.

Am I mad?

No. It's the same for other people too, for Angela and Maria and Eddie.

Whatever's in me, it must know I heard the whispers, whoever it is, whatever it is that controls this town, they know. Not whispers really, more like distant sounds. A man in panic, crying out for "Cheryl." Had he lost his wife too? I don't know. I don't know anything for certain anymore. This town is the only thing that knows what's going on.

I'm walking along the corridor and the rot and decay of the otherworld comes at me like a freight train, eating along the floor and walls, surrounding me in shadows and darkness and rust. A grid blocking my way where there was a clear path before, but I'm glad for the moment, because He is behind it. The pyramid-headed creature, staring at me. Does He even have eyes?

No attempt to get through. That makes it worse somehow. Other creatures hurl themselves at the grids like hungry animals, their arms stretching out to me through the metal, flesh tearing against the rust. Pyramid Head just stands there and stares like a tiger weighing me up for a later kill, or worse, a human. And I know I have seen Him before, and I know I don't want to find out where. And how do I know it's a Him? How do I know He isn't female, or an 'it'?

I just want to get out.

Whispers, or echoes, whatever they are, sounding again through the corridor. A little girl laughing, and I can't help but close my eyes in fear and lose balance, grabbing onto the metal grid to stop myself falling, knowing somehow that the creature on the other side won't try and rip my arms off now they're in His reach. Nonetheless, His hands close over mine and I open my eyes again to see Him standing there and still staring as if He hadn't made any motion. Daring me to look away or run or scream. Testing me.

A flash of memory to our first encounter, I thought He was killing a woman at first, realised quickly afterwards the 'woman' was actually two of those disgusting mannequin creatures. If He hadn't tried to slash at me with His knife later on, I might have thought that despite His appearence, He was on my side. Or another side, at least, not the same as the rest of the town. But I know better now. He is the closest relative to all this dirt and grime and blood. He was born from the town, and somehow, I know, from me. The hands are too familiar, the general shape. Is this how I know He's male? Is He an echo, some memory I've forgotten? Hell, could He be a warped version of one of the guys from work? Even if He moves like something from another world or dimension, which is fitting for this screwed-up place, there's something about Him that reminds me of fog and peace and normalcy.

I swear that if the creature had a face under that mask, it would be smiling as He removed His hands from mine, leaving streaks of blood and pus and grime along my fingers and across my palm. Pyramid Head turns and walks slowly back down the corridor, fading into shadow, and I know we will meet again, but for now I am distracted by the familiar groans coming from my side of the hall, thudding footsteps. I have no ammo, and there are no doors nearby anymore. I need to double-back, and deal with what is waiting back there. I hate melee weapons, I'm not going to escape without a scratch. Please, please, something let me escape with my life. I need to know what's going on here, I need to find some of this place's secrets, it already knows mine and I'm afraid to find out more about myself before I discover how this place knows everything. And it _does know everything_.

For the first time since Mary's death, I'm praying.

I thought this town would shed light on the letter I recieved, settled in my pocket with her beautiful picture, from before she got sick. I thought I'd get light. Only light I'm getting is the headlights on some train rushing at me, wanting to knock me down with revelations and horrors. I have to get out of this place, but I've already been sucked in. I can't escape, even though I want to. It's all about secrets. I need to find out what's at the heart of this town, or I'll go mad, if I haven't already.

Hail Mary, full of grace.

  


- End


End file.
